


razor sharp then fall apart

by koedeza



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hurt!Sam, powers!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 07:12:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18231629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koedeza/pseuds/koedeza
Summary: There is a first time for every high, and Sam has never known one like this. Getting there is easy, it's the coming down that costs.





	razor sharp then fall apart

When stars exploded and shattered, when the universe was born again… He is sure this is what it must have felt like. 

The last drop falls from the flask and lands on his tongue, a perfect sphere of implosion. He closes his eyes, and he feels more than whole, can’t possibly imagine life before  _ this. _

Suddenly in the dank motel room, he feels dirty. Like his whole life, he has simply been a rag, trying to wipe up messes that he’s made but only spreading the damage further. He sits, stands up, drinks some whiskey, washes his hands, makes his bed, takes a shower, tucks his hair behind his ears. It’s hard to adjust to, every little jump in his veins, every muscle spasm that urges him to  _ move.  _ In the morning, at the first sign of light, he packs up his car and leaves without paying for the room.

_ I am not complete, ever. I am a fragment of my own imagination. I am what you are told about so you will obey. I am what you are taught to fear. _

It sounds arrogant, he knows that. Even demons are afraid of something, he reasons.

As he ambles down the hallway, the flashing lights wash the whole place in red. It’s like he’s walking along the belly of a great big beast, watching after it’s swallowed him whole. Everything is refined. The sound of his shoes clicking on the linoleum floor. The feel of soft denim on his skin. The scent of bleach used to clean the blood off the floors and walls. The noise of the alarm pierces his ears, but it doesn’t hurt. It’s like slicing through the thick and useless noise in the back of his head. If he thinks about it hard enough, he can still barely remember what he used to tell himself in the before. How he wasn’t good enough, maybe. It doesn’t matter now.

It won’t ever matter if he stays this high up.

When he makes his first few kills on the stuff, things turn dark. There are flashes in his head like everything is going in and out of sync, and when he holds his hands out, things jump. He sees the stars shattering. He bleeds, like everyone else. Someone has to help him stumble out of the building as it crumbles, little do they know he brought it down.

Everyone thinks earthquake, he thinks unbearable everything.

The noise is too much, the world is too bright, the sensation of the clothes he is wearing hurts him. He retches out onto the street and desperately wishes his older brother were here. He would know what to do. The best way to describe it is like he’s being compressed and shrunk down into half his original size. It’s hard to close the car door, so he slams it instead and leans back to catch his breath. If once he was whole, now he is beyond empty.

His nose will not stop bleeding. His hands will not stop shaking. He cannot stop crying.

There is nothing left in his flask.

There is nothing left in him.


End file.
